


My, What Pretty Bracelets (Remix of bikenesmith's Art)

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Because of Reasons, Bottom Erik, Bottom!Erik, Charles You Slut, Clubbing, Dom/sub Undertones, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Handcuffs, M/M, Present Tense, Rebound Sex, References to Drugs, Safer Sex, Top Charles, top!Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: Charles spots a gorgeous man across the dance-floor.  A gorgeous man with handcuffs dangling off his belt loop.  Charles has to have him and maybe for more than just one night . . .





	My, What Pretty Bracelets (Remix of bikenesmith's Art)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bikenesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikenesmith/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Drawing of Erik Lehnsherr](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/303312) by bikenesmith. 
  * In response to a prompt by [bikenesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikenesmith/pseuds/bikenesmith) in the [xmen_remix_madness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2017) collection. 



> Inspired by bikenesmith's beautiful drawing of Erik - follow the link to see him in all his glory!

Charles walks down the stairs to the basement with Raven at his side. The club is heaving. The music is deafening. The darkness is illuminated by vivid flashes of pulsing light. He's got his white jeans on - the ones that make his arse look amazing - and his mesh shirt, which reveals that, yes, his nipples are the same colour as his lips. Raven even persuaded him into a cat-flick of eyeliner and a touch of gold on his cheekbones.

He should be feeling miserable. He broke up with Jason less than 72 hours ago. Instead he feels like a burden has been lifted. The burden of trying to make the relationship work when, clearly, it wasn't and Jason had been doing fuck all to help. Charles had finally realised what his sister and friends had been telling him for ages; Jason was a manipulative bastard and it had nothing to do with his illusion-creating mutation. Charles had cut him slack for way too long because Jason's father was a mutantphobe arsehole. Raven had pointed out that their mother was an ice-cold bitch and their stepfather a bona fide psychopath, but if Charles had acted like Jason she'd have torn him a new one.

So, he feels light-headed and giddy with freedom and in desperate need of a good fuck, because, God knows, he hadn't been getting it from Jason. They walk over to the bar. Raven is glorious in blue and scarlet and gold. Her dress matches her eyes. The bartender is clearly taken with her, ignores the claims of people who were there before them and serves her first. Chilli vodka for Raven - God, her taste in drinks! - and sparkling water for Charles.

He doesn't need to drink when he's around so many inebriated people. He can surf the waves of their intoxication, which is cheaper than buying alcohol and doesn't end in a hangover. There are a fair few punters who've ingested a lot more than alcohol. Charles allows himself to pick up just a trace of ecstasy, a hint of K and a smidgen of crystal.

He and Raven move away from the bar and lean on a pillar near the dance-floor. They watch the writhing bodies. Some people are damn near naked and damn near having sex out there. The waves of lust make Charles' cock twitch. His attention is caught by a man across the room. His mind shines so bright. He's a fellow mutant. The glimpses Charles gets of him between grinding, gyrating bodies are tantalisingly good.

I'm going talk to that guy over there. Will you be alright?

Raven gives him The Look. She is way stronger than she looks and fast as a striking cobra. She's also studied a shitload of martial arts.

Sorry, you know I can't click off the protective older brother switch in my brain.

Idiot, she projects, but it's tinged with fondness.

At one time a conversation like that would have meant a massive row and not talking for days. They've both grown up a bit since then.

He's gorgeous. If he doesn't like boys, pass him on to me.

He grins and kisses her cheek and makes his way across the dance-floor. He's not above giving the dancers a gentle mental nudge when they don't move out of his way. He reaches Mr Sex is My Middle Name and My First Name and Last Name Too.

The man looks to be a few years older than Charles. He's leaning against an angle of the wall, bracing himself with his arms, which are are corded with lean muscle, one leg crossed over the other. And what lovely, long legs they are too. His complexion is dark. His hair is auburn. He is classically handsome; straight jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones, sensual mouth, bright eyes. It's hard to tell the colour in this light but Charles thinks they're green. He's wearing black boots, dark jeans, - not as tight as Charles', but tight enough to showcase the hefty bulge of his cock - a bright belt (Fuchsia? Magenta?) and a black top that looks like a turtleneck, but with no sleeves. The cinched in belt and the weird halter-neck turtleneck emphasise the narrowness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders.

His gaze flicks up to meet Charles', then wanders over his body, paying particular attention to his mouth and nipples, before returning to his eyes. Raven is out of luck. This one definitely likes boys and definitely likes Charles. He bathes in the tide of attraction. He can't help giving the guy's impressive bulge another look see. Yep, he's packing and that's not a gun in his pocket. Charles' eyes are caught by a glint of metal. Dangling from a belt loop is a pair of handcuffs.

Charles leans forward so he can shout in the man's ear. He's so close he can feel his body heat and smell his sweat and cologne.

"Do you prefer to wear those or put them on someone else?"

Charles' history has left him with certain preferences.

The man glances down to the handcuffs then back up to Charles.

"Depends. I think I'd like to wear them for you," he says in a pleasantly deep voice.

Right answer. Charles smiles, bright and filthy.

"Do you want to go to one of the back rooms?"

The man nods and stands. He's nigh on half a foot taller than Charles.

"Hang on, I'll just let my sister know where I'm going."

I've struck gold, sissy, I'll be out the back.

Raven, who appears to be talking to a big, red demon, projects:

Lucky bastard!

He flicks her the vees and turns to the man, who gives him a curious look.

I'm a telepath.

He waits for the guy to frown and walk away. Instead he grins, a too wide, too toothy grin, and projects:

My best friend's a telepath. I'm metallokinetic.

He makes an elegant gesture with his fingers and the handcuffs unlock themselves, arabesque through the air and drop into Charles' palm. Charles feels a wave of relief and lust, partly his own, partly the man's, sweep through him. They head for the back rooms. Charles pays for a key. The man unlocks their allocated room without it. Charles laughs.

When the door closes behind them the music is still loud, but no longer an insistent presence. The man stands facing Charles, head slightly bowed. Charles twirls the handcuffs round his fingers and walks around him.

"Hmm, very nice, very nice indeed."

Charles sits on the large, purple sofa that occupies the centre of the small room. He lifts the handcuffs to his lips and licks the cool metal. The man gasps.

"I take it you can feel that."

He nods.

Charles slides as much as he can of the bracelet part of the cuffs into his mouth and sucks the metal like a lollipop. The man gulps and his fingers close into fists. Charles drags the cuffs over his chest, rubbing them on his nipples, making the small nubs peak and harden. He draws the metal down his torso, over his belly and across his crotch. He circles the cuffs over his jeans clad cock and thrusts into the circle of metal. The man's eyes are huge - in the slightly better lighting of the private room he can see that they are green - and he's clenching and unclenching his hands.

"I think you should come over here and kiss me,' says Charles.

He opens his legs and gestures at the space between. The man kneels between his thighs and presses forward to kiss him. Charles wraps his legs around him and grinds his hips against his toned abs, while they swap spit and crash teeth and their tongues entwine like mating snakes. Charles pulls back. The man makes a bereft sound.

"What would you like me to call you?"

"Erik."

"My name is Charles. Would you like to call me by my name?"

The man shakes his head.

"What would you like to call me?"

"Sir."

Green eyes meet blue. Charles smiles.

"That pleases me very much, Erik. I can tell you're going to be exemplary. Stand up and take off your clothes."

Erik stands and strips. He doesn't try to be sexy or turn it into a striptease. He doesn't need to. He's beautiful. Runner's legs. Tiny waist. Broad shoulders. Sculpted torso. Enormous cock. More than half hard. Really enormous cock. Cut. Cut and unfeasibly enormous. Charles has to touch. He gets up and puts the hand holding the cuffs on Erik's cock. He runs his fingers and the metal up and down his perfect prick. Erik shivers and inhales sharply. He stiffens into full hardness. Charles puts the handcuffs round his cock, like a cock-ring, and spins them around. Erik moans.

"Would you like to put these on, Erik?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go on then."

Erik floats the cuffs off his cock, puts his hands behind his back - Charles takes his shoulder and turns him round so he can see what he's doing - and snaps them on his wrists. He has dimples above his arse; his small, but perfectly formed arse.

Charles kneels to kiss his dimples. He licks and bites his buttocks. Erik projects how much he likes the biting so Charles does it more and harder. Erik tastes salty with sweat. Charles parts his cheeks and inhales the rich, earthy smell of him. He licks and kisses his pucker, enjoying the musky taste. He doesn't push his tongue inside though, because no way is he giving someone a rim job unless they've been thoroughly cleaned out. Erik sways on his feet and moans some more.

Charles stands and walks round to face Erik. He kneels and gives Erik's perfect, red cock one kiss, one lick and a single, brief suck. Erik almost falls over. Charles has to hold him up. He stands and strips off. He's nowhere near as beautiful as Erik, but he's not bad. Erik's eyes dart from rosy cock, to rosy nipples, to strong thighs, to compactly muscled chest, to uncut cock again.

"Your skin, sir, so pale, like, like a pearl."

"Thank you, Erik. However, I've been told this is my best feature."

He turns and thrusts out his arse. He knows he's got a great arse; round, firm, pert and perky.

"Perfection," whispers Erik.

"Come and touch it."

Erik presses up against his back. His cock is insistent against Charles' ass cheeks. Erik ruts between Charles' buttocks, breath hot against the side of his neck. Charles pushes back against him, grinding to the same rhythm. He feels a slight dampness on his warm, taut skin. Pre-come. He steps away and turns round.

"Please, please, sir, please," begs Erik.

"Be good now," says Charles and slaps Erik's erect cock.

Erik sobs and bites his lip.

"Lean over the back of the sofa, darling."

Erik staggers over to the sofa and drapes himself over the back. Charles retrieves a tube of lube and a pack of condoms from his discarded jeans. He stands behind Erik, admiring the slight redness where the cuffs have chafed his wrists. He traces Erik's spine with a forefinger, appreciating the contrast between their skin colours. He lubes up a finger and pushes in. He's gentle, but not hesitant. Erik lets out a long groan. He's viciously tight round Charles' finger. In and out. In and out.

"You don't often bottom, do you?"

"No, sir."

Charles carefully eases a second finger in. Erik whimpers. He's loosening up slightly, but not much.

"Why did you decide to bottom for me?"

"Don't know, sir. Something about you. A sense, hnn, of, aah, power."

Charles gets a third finger in. He works away at Erik's arsehole. It's finally starting to open up.

"Would you like to experience some of my power? My telepathy?"

yes, yes, yes

Charles eases into Erik's mind just like he's easing his fingers into his hole. He plays with Erik's powers, gently heating then cooling the cuffs. He makes him feel as though a thousand tiny mouths are kissing him all over. He shares the sensation of pushing a fourth finger into Erik and feeling the pulse and drag of his rectal muscles. He massages Erik's prostate and piggy-backs on the stimulation until he feels like his own prostate's being prodded and tapped.

perfectperfectperfect they both think.

They're both very close now. They're both sweating and breathing hard and making desperate, needy noises. Charles pulls out his fingers and rolls a condom over his cock with a shaking hand. He slicks his prick with the rest of the lube, positions himself, and pushes in. He gets about halfway when Erik clamps down so hard he has to stop. He pets him and kisses the back of his neck and strokes down his arms to the handcuffs. Gradually Erik relaxes.

more please, sir

Charles pushes the rest of the way in. Erik tenses up again so he pauses and licks across Erik's shoulders and caresses his heaving flanks and projects:

beautiful, perfect, tight, hot, perfect

Erik's response is wordless, just a jumble of pain and pleasure, with pleasure winning out. Charles starts thrusting. He paces himself. Not too fast, not too slow. Not too hard, not too gentle. He gets a bit of burns and stings from Erik, but mostly it's just:

blissblissblissblissbliss

Erik's on the edge. So is Charles. He ups the speed and force of his thrusts. He tangles their sensations together. He sees just what Erik needs to bring him off with his cock untouched. He pulls all the way out and grabs the handcuffs. He slams back in, burying himself to the hilt, and tugs on the cuffs. Erik screams and comes. Charles moans and pumps come into the condom. They're both lost for a while.

Charles pulls out carefully, keeping a firm grip on the condom. Erik winces a little, takes off the handcuffs with his powers, pushes himself off the back of the sofa and sits carefully on the seat. Charles tosses the condom in the bin. Erik rubs absentmindedly at the raw skin round his wrists. Charles can feel him enjoying the pain. There's a small sink in the corner of the room and a couple of fresh towels. He dampens one and uses it to clean the sweat and lube from Erik. He dries him with the other towel and gives himself a perfunctory rub down. Erik watches his every move. Charles hands Erik his clothes and puts his own on.

Erik sits. Charles stands. Erik is still watching him like a hawk.

"Is it always like that with telepaths?"

"I wouldn't know," says Charles, "I've never fucked another telepath."

Erik smiles that unsettling smile.

"You know what I mean."

Now Charles smiles.

"If I use my telepathy during sex then, yes, it is always like that."

"Don't you always use it, then?"

Charles shakes his head.

"My ex-boyfriend used to get freaked out, which was pretty ironic as his mutation was creating perfect illusions."

Erik looks disgusted.

"What a cretin. Sounds like he was suffering from internalised mutantphobia. No wonder he's your ex."

"Well, his father was a mutantphobe, so you may well be right, however, he was also a complete douche-bag."

Erik laughs. He has a lovely laugh.

"Do you always top, sir, I mean, Charles?"

Charles gives him an incredulous look.

"Good god, no. That would be terribly boring. Besides, when there are cocks like yours in the world, how could I resist bottoming?"

"You don't have to resist my cock, you can have it if you like," says Erik. "Ah, that . . . that came out wrong."

His dark skin darkens even more across his cheekbones and he looks adorably embarrassed. Charles smirks.

"Good thing I'm a telepath and can tell that's your way of asking me out. I'd very much like to have your cock. That's my way of saying I'd love to go out with you."

He grabs Erik's hand and pulls him up off the sofa and into his arms. They kiss.

They walk hand in hand across the dance-floor. Charles doesn't have to nudge people out of the way with his telepathy because Erik moves them out of their path using zips and jewellery. Raven is drinking at the bar. Charles dips into her mind. Things didn't go well with the red devil. A jealous boyfriend turned up. A jealous boyfriend who looked like a male model and had immaculate hair.

Oh, well, at least one of us found a new boyfriend.

She looks up, startled.

"Raven, this is Erik, my new boyfriend. Erik, this is Raven, my sister."

They stare at each other.

"Isn't it too soon to meet the family, Charles?" says Erik.

"Seriously, Charles, seriously? Jason's toothbrush is still in your bathroom and you've already got another boyfriend?"

"Jason? Who's Jason?" says Charles.

Erik grins his carcharodon smile.

Raven scowls.

She scowls even more ferociously when Charles sends her an image of Erik's ginormous erect cock.


End file.
